


Dreaming Of Blue Skies

by KyeAbove



Series: Dreams Are For Liars [2]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood, Body Horror, Character Death, Dehumanization, Dubious Morality, Friends to Enemies, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Insanity, M/M, Memory Loss, No Living Toons, Past Rape/Non-con, Role Reversal, Swearing, Trauma, Two Minds One Body, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-03-04 21:36:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13373526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyeAbove/pseuds/KyeAbove
Summary: Joey Drew Studios closed fifteen years ago, but by then Joey Drew himself had been on the outside for some years, banished from the studio by an angry friend and spiteful employees.Before he left, Joey had been working with a special kind of machine. He thought could change everything once thought possible, but he never got all that far with his dream. Upon returning to the studio, prompted by hope and loss, he finds out that dream is not only a reality, but greater than even he could have ever imagined.And he's horrified by what he sees.





	1. Ideal Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [In Love With Your Carnage](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13254918) by [KyeAbove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyeAbove/pseuds/KyeAbove). 



> So, this is heavily based on In Love With Your Carnage but as I like having freedom, consider Carnage a stand alone work. There are huge differences between this concept and Carnage anyways. I've been working on this since I posted Carnage so there's a good amount written. I just need to type and refine it. 
> 
> As well, while this is a role reversal (and as a consequence many things are different from canon), there are two in-universe things that caused the change.
> 
> Joey never thought of using the Ink Machine on other people. He simply wanted to give cartoons life, but never could. 
> 
> Secondly, Linda left Henry. I go by the assumption that Linda was his wife. Because of all the time Henry spent pleasing Joey, Linda moved back in with her parents. They later divorced. This left Henry a little more bitter at Joey.
> 
> All that, and there were a lot of different circumstances. As the narrative implies, Joey and Henry were a lot younger when they started the studio than they certainly were in canon, which left so much more time for things to go wrong.

If Joey could change anything, out of every moment where his heart came out on the bottom, Joey would have begged Henry to let him stay. In Joey’s ideal world, instead of turning away to hide his tears that bitter autumn day, he let them fall in front of Henry’s resentful eyes, and asked Henry what he’d done wrong.

Decades later, Joey still wasn’t sure of the true answer.

In Joey’s ideal world, he fought back when his employees swarmed him. He dodged the animator who jumped at him with a fountain pen, and he didn’t still have a scar across his face. Joey hadn’t ran away, taking one last look at Henry, and seeing nothing but loathing.  
  
His heart broke that day, and it took years for him to pick of the pieces of his hopes and dreams, and even longer to forget them all.

Joey was still a dreamer, but he knew dreams were only that. Was there a place for broken dreamers? Joey had certainly thought he’d found one, but that was gone now.

His dreams had carried him away from his decaying home, and lead him to Henry. Joey thought Henry would save him, in the way of the knights and princes of the fairy tales Joey’s ma told him and his sisters over campfires and starry skies, but Henry had failed him. Joey had failed Henry.

Joey failed to be a good friend, especially when Henry needed it most. Joey didn’t think Henry would ever forgive him, but Joey exited his car anyways, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

It had been decades since Joey stood in the front of the building that had been named for him, but from how it stood, it could have been mistaken for centuries. It certainly felt that long since he’d walked its halls. There was a growing sense of alarm and desire as he approached the studio he once called his pride and joy.

Most of the windows were completely boarded up, and the front entrance looked like its two metal doors had been rammed from the inside, dented and bent. Still, a lock remained, holding them together.

“Henry, you’ve done a great job keeping the dream alive.” Joey said upon the sight. Joey pushed at the crushed doors, causing the lock to jingle quietly, and disturbing the rocks wedged under them.

So, he wasn’t getting in that easily. Joey reached down, and pulled out one of the rocks. With how old the lock was, Joey assumed he could break it with enough effort. Then he’d have free range of the studio.

Chances are he might have never returned had he not started hearing stories. Joey hadn’t been back to the studio since the day his employees had chased him off, and even with his heart broken, he had not intent of going back.

All because of Henry. Joey hated Henry, even as he still loved him.

His friend had taken over the studio, keeping Joey's iconic name on the building and the branding, and sending monthly checks to keep Joey from suing up until its closing. That was the only contact they’d had since Joey left, even though Joey sometimes wondered if Henry had crushed as many half written letters as he had.

Some of those letters were rants and bitterness, others kindness and hope. Joey wanted to send every one of them. But he told himself every time that Henry was most likely far too busy for his maddened misery. How could he not be?

With Joey gone, almost everything changed in the shorts, and Henry appeared to be in close control of the changes. Joey couldn't blame him for everything, but Henry made far too many bad choices with their characters, and in Joey’s opinion, the worst choice had been making all of them second fiddle to Henry's new angel character.

The angel had been popular, keeping all the characters alive for several more years, and Joey could admit there was nothing wrong with the concept, but it seemed like a personal insult towards Joey. Pushing back everything Joey and Henry had worked on in favour of something new. Not only this. Joey hated the angel’s voice.  
  
Henry had clearly learned that the angel had been a wrong move. It had been the angel who rose Henry up and brought him crashing down. When the studio closed, the employees had disappeared into obscurity, and Henry seemingly for real.  
  
Until recently, if rumors were to be believed. But while rumors were what brought him here, there was something else that had sent him running head on towards regret and past mistakes.

Casper died last year. Joey hadn’t been allowed to attend the funeral by Casper’s family, even though Joey had spent decades with that beautiful man, and they hadn’t talked to Casper in years. Joey wasn’t used to being alone, so when he heard rumors Henry might still walk the halls of the studio, Joey had dropped everything. All for the small chance that he could at least repair his friendship with Henry.

But there was another reason he wanted to see Henry again.

The old lock snapped, and the chain slipped to the ground.  
  
Joey breathed deeply.  
  
“Time to see the spoils of war.”  
  
Joey pulled the doors open, and was greeted with a familiar smell of dried ink and the new smell of must and intruding nature.  
  
The sense that he shouldn't be here returned, but Joey laughed it off, stepping into the rundown front entrance area where he used to greet visitors with a mostly genuine smile. Over the door to the actual studio, the words **Joey Drew Studios: Where Dreams Come Alive** used to stand out proudly. But now the lettering was faded, and the **‘Alive’** had been blotted out with ink, and someone had scratched **‘To Die’** in its place.  
  
Any lesser man may have turned back then, taking the mockery as the warning it was, but Joey only smiled.  
  
“A dream is still a dream. Even if it’s foolish.”  
  
Who was Henry to ruin that dream?  
  
It was clearly Grant Cohen who had placed those lies in front of Henry's eyes. What was a few years of debt compared to a lifetime of being known for amazing things? Beyond that?  
  
By now, together, Joey and Henry would have changed the world, of animation, and of nature itself. It was Joey’s idea, but he would have loved to have Henry beside him during it all.  
  
That dream was gone now, impossible even, but some part of him still wished he could have something with Henry. Joey had been held back by regret, and then Henry's disappearance for so long.  
  
Joey wanted to find Henry for his heart, but more practically, making him admit that he’d made a terrible choice tossing Joey to the wind. Ask him if running their dream to the ground had been worth it.  
  
Nodding at this final decision, Joey walked under the words, pushing the old wooden door, off one of its hinges, and stepping into the hallway on the other side. Once he was clear of the door, it slammed shut behind him.


	2. Misery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is quite a bit _Joey doing much of what Henry did_ to start, but it does diverge in some places quite quickly. I have my reasons for everything.

If the front entrance was a warning, the hallway was a horror. It was lined with nothing but posters featuring the angel, in this in that. The angel’s grinning faced mocked him, and even silent, he could hear the angel’s voice mocking him, and putting his dreams to dust.

“If only he could see me now.” Even with tragedy and his latest failure, Joey had risen farther then even he had expected, while the angel had no right to smile any longer. “He’d still think me mad, wouldn’t he, Henry?” Joey spoke loudly, listening for any sort of reaction to the name.

There was no response. Joey hadn’t been expecting one.

“Henry! Are you here?” Joey walked down the hallway, his call faintly echoing around him. There was a welcome sign hanging off the ceiling, and Joey had to push it out of his way. Entering the room at the end of that hall only showed more destruction, but it was clear someone was still at the studio.

The projector far into the room was on. Playing nothing but light, but playing all the same. It was so simple, but it was a great comfort to Joey. Someone was here. It might be Henry, and that’s all Joey wanted.  
  
Joey half expected to be jumped then, as he jogged towards the projector. Henry had always been able to take him down. Even after two decades, Joey didn’t expect that to change. Joey was healthy and fit even at forty-eight. Henry, a year younger, would surely have retained his punch and his spirit.

Just like the silence before, there was no violence. For anyone else, this would bring relief and not sadness.

“Henry?” Joey called once more, as he set his hand down on the projector, running his fingers across it, and pulling up a thick layer of dust. Clearly, this projector hadn’t been touched in some time. That meant it could have been left on for some time. While glad that he wasn’t the one who had to pay the power bill, it also meant that the projector wasn’t much of a clue.

Suddenly, something felt _wrong._ Then, with a click, there was music.

_“We are not your portraits, and we say you are out of your mind. We are as created from the souls of men. You have yet to see our dead hearts beat inside.”_

That was the angel’s voice singing along to the tune. Joey cringed even as he wondered _what the hell?_ Had he triggered something? Joey looked down at his feet, looking for a wire, and seeing nothing. So it was some other rig. Or he was just going mad.

Not only that, why that song? Joey remembered it from one of the final released shorts. The angel was being prosecuted just as he was outside it. Joey had thought it was a direct dismissal of the criticisms going around, as it had ended with the angel rising above all those who thought him evil or wrong.

Fifteen years after seeing that short, it’s confusing message had come back to haunt Joey.

“Henry, if this is just to mess with me, it’s not funny. I loathe that angel’s voice. Although, I assume it wouldn’t matter to you.” Joey muttered, backing away from the projector and the cruel song.

Joey turned around, suddenly very interested in anything that wasn’t the still playing melody. The cabinet where various animation supplies were kept was stained with ink, and there were deep scratches across almost every drawer. Beside the cabinet, a there was a long abandoned animator’s station.

If Joey recalled correctly, this station had belonged to Ollie Wells, the lead character designer. Joey had more than enough dealings with him to remember him as a skittish and emotional young man. Joey and Ollie had a few conflicts in the past, ranging from disagreements over character designs, to stolen food.

Henry wasn’t the only person he’d left behind. While Ollie had been among the crowd that had chased him away, Joey still remembered fondly the time Ollie had started a fight with Sammy Lawrence over creative differences and it'd become an outright war in only an hour, and when he’d dramatically proposed to his girlfriend when she stopped by at the studio, and wouldn’t quiet down about their engagement for a week because he was so excited she’d said yes.

Remembering Ollie only made Joey feel worse. He’d driven Henry, Ollie, and so many others to hate him. If not hate him, to still want him gone.

Joey wanted to feel like a victim, but he’d had long enough to decide he’d done something wrong. Joey deserved the hate he got.

_“And I tried, angry. You do not have a heart. This dream is not afraid to own us.”_

Joey growled, and turned around, pointing accusingly.

“Will you _stop!?_ ”

But the song was just a song, and could offer no response but with it’s long written lyrics.

 _“For you, on this day, this night. In any case, in any case. This is, however, a single day of my life._ ” Joey was ready to breath a sigh of relief, because he remembered that this was where the song ended, but to his confusion and his dismay, the singing continued. _“Where care is unneeded and dirty. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me! I know. We do not worry too much. From there, he was still alive. He was uncomfortable. But he can not survive, so he was shot. You said no, we have movies to show!"_

Before Joey could yell at the hidden recording once again, and before the singer could speak another lyric, a gruff voice cut in.

_“What the heck? Why are you...are you alright? Did someone rough you up?”_

_“I…”_ The singer now spoke in his normal voice. Not even the more chipper and higher voice he used for the angel. _“Henry...Henry has gone too far.”_

 _“What's he done now?”_ That gruff voice asked in response to the broken words of a false angel. That was when the recording finally clicked to an end, leaving Joey with more questions than answers.

Joey was sure he knew that second voice. The studio’s go to repairman. He would do the work, and for a little extra, he kept his mouth shut about anything that he might have seen. Joey couldn’t recall his name. Grant had been the one who dealt with him the most.

Then, what did they mean by Henry going too far? What had Henry done? Now he wished the recording had kept going.

Joey stepped away from Ollie’s station and went looking for the recording. Maybe there was more, but like it seemingly started on it’s own, it had stopped just as so. Joey looked all around the projector, and after only a quick search, he found a tape recorder, nestled under the projector’s stand.

Joey rewound the tape, and pressed play.

 _“I really thought getting rid of Mister Drew was the best choice for this company. Those ‘crazy ideas’ don’t seem so crazy now that Henry...I hate that man. I thought he was better than this!”_ After a bit of silence, the recording divulged into the song, and ended just as it had the first time. Joey held the recorder, almost glaring at the thing.

What he could gather at a moment’s thought was that Henry had screwed up. Badly. Maybe that’s why he’d hidden away. From shame. Maybe regret.

“Henry, what did you do?” Joey was missing something, but couldn’t tell what. He knew that unless the answer suddenly struck him, or he found more clues, he wouldn’t easily figure it out short of Henry telling Joey himself.

This recording just strengthened the resolve to find Henry.

Joey placed the recorder into his bag, and went looking for more clues.

He first returned to Ollie’s desk. While all of the animators had been valued employees, Ollie was one of those who had worked closely with Henry, so maybe there would be a hint nearby. Joey turned on the overhead light to get a better look at the station, basking it in a off, heavenly glow, and his eyes widened at what he now clearly saw.

It was covered in drawings of the angel. All of the drawings were destroyed or covered with ink, and some drawings Joey couldn’t recognize as the angel because they were so heavily damaged. The station itself was in as much disarray as the cabinet.  

The only thing not tainted was a picture of Bendy, frowning. Another thing that stood out from the others was that while the angel’s pictures were more in line with Ollie’s personal style, the Bendy drawing was more like…

Decades ago, three weeks after Joey had successfully bought the building that would become Joey Drew Studios, Henry had timidly entered Joey’s new office, saying he had an idea for a new character.

Now, Joey was holding that exact same concept art Henry had presented to him, of an unnamed character who would then be named Bendy. But the smile it once had was erased, replaced with this frown.

“Oh, Henry.” What had happened here? Was Henry behind this destruction?  A realization the angel was a symbol of disgrace, but Bendy was too far off because of him? Something terrible had happened here, but the dried ink and dust said it’d been some time since it happened.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Joey screamed, dropping the drawing and stumbling a little.

“Who's there?!” It didn’t sound like Henry in any way. It didn’t seem to have a source, either. It was clear, like someone else was in the room, but off in that it was somehow still distorted.

“Nobody.” The disembodied voice replied.

In the distance, Joey heard a door creak open, and slam shut.

This wouldn’t do! Joey wasn’t going to let some creep get the slip on him. Joey quickly grabbed the drawing from off the floor, mostly for sentimental reasons, but partly because he wanted to ask Henry _why_. Then, he took off running in the direction of the sound.

But before he could get far, something caught his attention, and stopped him in his tracks. A little ways away, ink was dripping from the ceiling, leaving a stain that covered half the area. But the truly curious thing was the words on the wall.

 **That Memory We Used To Share Is Nothing At All**  
  
It was written in ink, with clearly shaking hands. Even without context Joey could tell this was something of sadness. A broken dream. Betrayal.

Joey didn’t know what betrayal it could possibly relate to. Henry had betrayed _him._ If the message was even written by Henry at all.

Stepping around the dripping ink, Joey tried the door, figuring it could be the source of the sound, but found it locked, and he certainly hadn’t heard a door lock. It was odd. Henry hated locked doors.

Henry had usually kept a ring of keys with him at all times, and while he told everyone it was to make up for how much the janitor lost his own set of keys, Joey knew Henry well enough and long enough to know otherwise.

If Henry was really here, there was something very wrong going on, and the writing on the wall and the locked door only affirmed that.

Joey was prepared to try every door down the hall to prove that the one door was just a fluke, and to find his mystery creep too, and he tried until he had no more doors to open. The turn after the hallway was a dead end. Then he saw a beautiful sight.  
  
“She’s still here!”  
  
Joey made a mad dash because illuminated under a soft light, seemingly just waiting for him all this time, was his Ink Machine.

Once upon a time, Joey was dissatisfied with how things were going. He was still proud of what he’d accomplished, but he felt like he could do more. So when Casper had suggested this machine, and found the appropriate rituals, Joey had been so happy!

Bringing cartoons to life? It would have been wonderful! But no matter what Joey tried, nothing stayed alive for more than a few minutes. He’d grown disheartened, and Henry’s growing distaste for Joey certainly hadn’t helped his mood. It was rather a shame that his last memories of the studio were filled with heartbreak.  
  
“How are you?” Joey asked his machine. “Were you lonely? I have been for some time.” Joey walked around the Ink Machine, looking for any sign of life. Finding nothing, Joey’s shoulders sagged. “I see they turned you off, Doll. I’ll get you back up and running. Just give me a moment or two.” The creep could wait.

Joey remembered the room with the switch, so it was a quick run to where he wanted to be. The first thing he noticed were the pedestals in the room.

“Odd. Very odd.”

Considering how he couldn’t pull down the switch at the back of the room, and inspection of the pedestals showed that pushing down on them made the lever jerk ever so slightly, he assumed weight needed to be on them. Specific weights from specific items, or else the switch wouldn’t move.  
  
“Why didn’t I think of that?”  
  
Looking at each conveniently framed silhouette of the appropriate items, he saw that he needed to find something to do with the angel, a banjo, acetone, a pipe wrench, a hat of some sort, and some kind of clothing. That would be easy enough, Joey assumed.

Joey exited the room with confidence, but that quickly dashed off as soon as he turned the short corner.

There was something standing there, staring at him. Joey would almost say it was human, had it not seemingly be entirely made of ink. The way it held itself showed no person was underneath. This was...amazing!

It was studying Joey, looking him up and down, swaying. It growled, somewhat.  
  
“Have I offended you in some way?” Joey asked, keeping his cool even as excitement swelled. Had someone got the machine to work like he’d hoped? Now, it was no cartoon, but it was more than Joey ever made.  
  
“You should leave.” The ink creature suggested in a raspy, dying tone, before melting away into the floor.

Maybe Joey would have taken this as a warning. Left, because it was clear something wasn’t right. Even the thought of seeing Henry again might not have kept him there. But he was so happy!

Joey did a little dance on the spot. Somehow, someone had done more with his Ink Machine then Joey ever could. That meant Joey could have eventually done it given more time! That lifted a certain amount of weight off his shoulders. Joey hadn’t failed! He just needed more time to perfect the art.

“Thank the gods!” Joey cried out, throwing his arms up in the air. “And whoever finally got it right. Drinks on me!” Joey didn’t think it at all odd to talk to an empty room. Why, maybe that ink creature was still hanging around. Joey sure hoped so. He had so many questions!

“Is there anyone here? And I’m not just talking to Henry now.”

To his disappointment, no one answered his call. Not even the disembodied voice. Was it a creature created by his Ink Machine? He had so many questions, and no one to answer them. But his excitement still surpassed all his previous worry about what had happened at the studio.

When Joey did a final little spin, he spotted another illuminated room down the hall. He could see it was lit with candles and not the old lights of the other rooms. Joey approached it, curiosity held.

Joey gagged as soon as he was near, as the room smelled of ink and rot and death, and the burning candles did nothing to mask the awful smells.

In the center of the room was a table, with an ink stained cloth covering whatever was on it. Joey went to pull the cloth off, but hesitated. He knew better. Whatever was under this, he wouldn’t want to see. Instead, he inspected more of the room, looking for some sign of what he might find, so he could lessen his shock or disgust. Something was rotting, and it might just be under that cloth.

Quickly, Joey spotted more words in ink on the wall, much like the first he’d seen, but these words were more confident in how they were written.  
  
**Nothingness Is Good For You**

Joey cased his mind for any possible explanation. Nothingness? What did that mean? He approached the wall, looking for any sign of significance.  
  
As he was tracing the words with his hand, he bumped into a record player. On a hunch, Joey turned it on, a record already long in place.  
  
_“Sheep, sheep, It's time for sleep. Rest your head. It's time for bed. In the morning, you may wake. Or in the morning, you'll be dead."_ Joey recognized this song. It was an unused song from the short, _Sheep Songs_ _,_ but it had been recorded and stored all the same by the sound department. _“There we go now, nice and tight. We wouldn't want our sheep roaming away now, would we? No, we wouldn't. Sheep, sheep, It's time for sleep. Rest your head. It's time for bed. In the morning, you may rise! Or in the morning, you'll be dead.”_  
  
It was a little jarring to hear the cutesy voice of Little Beau Peep singing that song.

Little Beau Peep had been a minor character. He was a little fluffy cat in suspenders that sang the so called sheep songs while he and Bendy were on their adventure to get Little Beau Peep’s sheep back from the very oblivious Boris, who had captured their attention with his music. When Henry had brought Joey the outline for the short, there’d been various drawings of Little Beau Peep attached. He was meant to be an offensive caricature of Sammy Lawrence in how he acted that was still marketable to the public, but the little kitten sang his songs and played his banjo, and did and said what he wanted to, and Joey found him endearing.

So when Joey worked up the courage to walk over to the table and pull off the cloth, his heart twisted, and Joey threw up, vomit dripping down onto his shirt, and onto the floor below.

The thing on the table looked like Little Beau Peep. But it couldn’t be, right? There was no way. No way…

Joey wanted to be excited that some had not only given life to ink, but had also given life to a cartoon. Just like Joey had wanted from the start.

Little Beau Peep was dead. He was torn open, empty of any organs he might have once had. Maybe the small puddles of ink surrounding the table were what remained of those. One of the straps of his suspenders was wrapped around his neck, tied into a neat bow. His face was barely recognizable, and both his ears were torn off.

Coincidentally, the banjo Joey needed was broken in two, one half protruding through Little Beau Peep’s throat, the other in his rib cage.  
  
This was _wrong_. What had he gotten himself into? All he wanted was to find his old friend! The ink creatures were just an added bonus. Now they were a curse, because some had murdered the life just barely created.

“Beau, I can’t say I knew you, but I will not let this stand!” Joey said to the corpse. “I’m going to find who did this and...the INK MACHINE!” If the Ink Machine brought something to life once, could it do it again? “Beau, I’m already in the process of getting my Ink Machine started up. Once I do that, I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

After that, there was nothing more he could do then pull out the banjo’s pieces, look away, recover the body with the cloth, and wipe the vomit from his mouth and chin.

He’d find the items, activate the machine, and things would turn out okay. The Ink Machine could do for Little Beau Peep what Joey couldn’t do for him. Beau would remember what happened, and he could tell Joey who did this…

Joey could only hope.  
  
The torture room had a door off of it, and Joey escaped through it, tears in his eyes. This wasn’t right. Everything was going so wrong.

Behind the door was one of the separate animators’ quarters, one Joey easily recognized. Joey had purchased the building pre-built to save on costs, and hadn’t had the money to build an area for all the animators to be in at one time. Eventually, he could have, but it became the charm of tours, and the animators’ quirks that they were all spread thin across the level. Eventually they’d converted the pub into their common room to discuss and compare as a whole, but they still usually kept to themselves.

That was why Joey had always found this room curious. Two animators had claimed this space, with two drawing stations taking up the area. They had been an odd pair. Joey had suspected that they were romantically involved. But he’d never asked. There had been no need to.

In the front of the station closest to the door, there was a chair, which wobbled when Joey brushed against it. Joey couldn’t recall much about this particular animator, only that he’d been much nicer then the other, but he’d left drawings of Bendy scattered around as final reminder of his presence here. Joey picked up every one, placing them neatly on the station.

It was when he went to reach for the papers on the floor that Joey found another item he was looking for. The acetone. It was dry, left open for who knows how long. Joey slipped it into his bag, and then collected the final papers.

Joey checked the other station, since if the acetone was at one, something could be at another. Joey remembered this animator more. Timmy Collier had been rude, mildly sadistic, and aloof, with a soft spot for only his apparent lover and Henry. Timmy had been the one to scar him that day twenty years before. Timmy’s station itself was stained with ink, and a fountain pen, maybe even the one Timmy had that day, had been stabbed through the middle. Joey didn’t want to dwell on Timmy, but clearly he hadn’t had a good day.

Joey found nothing at Timmy’s station. Even after searching for some time, Joey didn’t find any more items anywhere in the room, so he continued on through the other door in the room. It brought him to a place he’d been before, so he turned the way he hadn’t gone the first time.  
  
Joey was quite focused on looking out for items, so when he turned the corner, he promptly tripped over something. Luckily, he caught his balance, so while very confused, he didn’t fall. Joey turned, finding that what he’d tripped over was another tape recorder. He picked it up, and of course, he hit play.

 _“Even with every other bit of misfortune that’s befallen the studio since Wally got that Ink Machine working, I could handle working here. But that is no...no longer possible. Johnny turned up dead yesterday, bloody at that godforsaken organ. Henry expects me to keep working. Has he lost his mind!? I...I can’t work here anymore. My little brother is dead! I promised madre and padre I’d protect him. Now he’s with them…I’m so sorry.”_ Joey heard nothing but sobs for some time, then the broken voice cut in once more. _“I’m turning in my resignation letter today. Someone else can write these stupid cartoon songs.”_  
  
The tape stopped, but Joey played it once more to be sure he’d just heard right. When had this happened? Joey had watched every short since he’d left, and the music had never changed. Sammy had a very distinctive style, so if Sammy had resigned, Joey would have at least noticed a temporary change to stock music.

Then there were the misfortunes. Ones as great as death. Even with some of the rumors around the studio, those had never been popular. Joey had only known Johnny as the brother of Sammy, never on a personal or affectionate level, so he couldn’t feel too upset, but it was horrible. Who killed Johnny? Was it the same person who killed Little Beau Peep?  
  
Joey popped the tape out of the recorder, and put it in the bag, and then he tossed the recorder over his shoulder, where it hit the wall. There was so much more to figure out, but he needed more facts. Facts and questions were all he had. No answers. It was frustrating and upsetting.

He continued on for some time, uneased, checking every door, but even those that opened held no more clues or items. It was when he entered the pub that he got a shock once more. As he was descending the stairs, he could see that cans of bacon soup litter the area, and chairs and tables were overturned, but there was also a large patch of old dried blood, like someone had bled out here.  
  
Since Johnny Lawrence had apparently died here, and since Little Beau Peep did too, it wouldn’t be far fetched to say more than just their lives ended in this studio. Even though Joey didn’t want to ponder, maybe it had something to do with Henry. Joey begged the gods that it wasn’t, and Henry was innocent in all of this.

The deaths and the ink creatures that clearly roamed here had to be connected, somehow. Had his darling Ink Machine brought evil into the world? Even with all the misfortune, had Henry gotten everyone to keep making cartoons with such clear passion?

“Henry, I love you.” Joey whispered to the seemingly empty room.  
  
Joey continued down the stairs, and scoured the room for any of the needed objects. One thing that caught his attention was that there was still a ticket in the punch clock. Closer inspection showed it was Henry’s ticket, and while he’d punched in, he’d never punched out.  
  
Call him a fool, but Joey put the ticket with the drawing.  
  
The pub held nothing else of interest, and the only other area connected to it was boarded up. Just like the windows. Hiding some kind of dark secret, but Joey had nothing to break the boards with.

Joey climbed the stairs, feeling unsatisfied, and closed the door, leaving behind the horrors within.

Joey made his way back towards the exit, passing by the first message once more. How did it relate to these creatures? These deaths and other misfortunes? It had to be connected.  
  
He had to find Henry, for his sanity. Henry would know, if he’d been living here so long.  
  
Joey looked around the area, seeing if there was anything he needed in this area. He hadn’t known about the items then, and he was glad he came back. He found a figurine of the angel stashed behind the station with of all the destroyed drawings of him, and the hat in a knook where Henry had once had his own desk.  
  
To see it empty now reminded Joey of the pain of that day. How furious but proud Henry had been when he’d stood up to Joey.  
  
Joey knew he had his faults, and maybe more than he was aware of, but he still wished to this day that Henry had tried talking to him about his frustrations. They might have avoided so much hurt.  
  
After searching for a little more time, Joey found the pipe wrench, and only had one more item to find. He got rather emotional when he did come across it.  
  
Joey found that final item tucked away in the corner of the room that held the Ink Machine. A long black coat with the sleeves still rolled up.

Henry had loved the coat, even though he had to roll the sleeves, and that it wouldn’t be as long on an average man. Henry had been tiny. Grant Cohen had been shorter, but Henry still stood out.  
  
If Henry had abandoned his coat, giving it up for this...thing, then this whole thing was somehow even worse than Joey already thought.  
  
Joey would have kept it by his side if it wasn’t so important to the task.  
  
When placed on the pedestals, each lowered and clicked, and lights came on to bask them in a glow. It was hard work, but finally, he could turn on his Ink Machine.  
  
It didn’t turn on.

Softly, but with passion, Joey uttered one word.

“Fuck.”  
  
There wasn’t enough pressure. Where had he gotten the pressure switch built again?

The viewing room!  
  
Truthfully, Joey expected the walk there to be the most boring one, since he’d found all the needed items, and had no other objective. Instead, he had another encounter.

“Are you sure?” The ink creature at the end of the hall asked, its voice the same yet different from the last one. Three ink creatures? Maybe four, if that was what the voice was from. Even if there was death and destruction going on, Joey still wanted to talk to these creatures. Find out what had been done to make them, and if he could do it.  
  
“Very sure.” Joey answered, and he might have spooked the creature with his clear excitement, because it started to back away.  
  
“It’s your death.” The ink creature replied, disappearing behind the corner. It wasn’t there when Joey got there. Joey pouted a little. He hoped he’d get his chance another time.

The viewing room was silent and dead seeming when he entered it, until it wasn’t, and the projector flipped on.  
  
A violent tune played over an animation of Bendy. It felt like a warning from the devil himself, but even with his doubts as to the morals of the ink creatures, Joey needed to see his machine up and running once more. Maybe he could improve where someone else went wrong.  
  
As soon as Joey turned on the pressure, the projector turned off, and ink started to flow into the room. In the distance, Joey could hear his Ink Machine happily running.  
  
Joey smiled, grateful for this moment.  
  
With that, he set off for the Ink Machine once more, truly believing he could do the right thing. If anything, he could get some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In some other stories of mine, I've been rather gracious with Henry's height. Why, in the Cold series he's a full 5'5 as an adult. But here, Henry was in fact very tiny. Five feet, maybe? Definitely very short for an adult male. I don't tend to keep things completely consistent story to story (relationships, portrayals, heights, ages,ect.) unless they're set in the same storyline, so I just thought I'd clarify that.
> 
> Those featureless ink creatures? Searchers. The Searchers are a little different here. They exist without the Ink Machine running, although they can't regenerate if destroyed without it on, and they are much more humanoid, having legs and sharper features, but while they're a little less mindless then the Searchers in canon, they're not all there. Certain ones take the place of the practical use of the Bendy cutouts. The Demon has these ones trained as pets, and they patrol the studio, reporting back what they can. Since he doesn't have the probable blindness of the canon Ink Demon, it may have never occurred to the Demon to use the cutouts as eyes. Or, it's a simple would you rather have extra eyes, or something with eyes, ears, and claws?


	3. Dollie

This was a time of peace for Joey. One of few in the last year.

The Ink Machine whirled with affection, and she happily greeted Joey when he returned to the room that housed her. She was a living entity recognizing her creator. A loving daughter greeting her father for the first time in twenty years.

“Hello again, Doll! Sorry I’ve been gone so long. If I’m being honest, I thought they might have gotten rid of you out of spite.” Joey hugged the machine, and he was so prideful in that moment. He’d seen her grow from a simple drawing to this! “I see you’ve been busy since I left.”

The Ink Machine clicked oddly, as if to indicate shame.

“I don’t blame you.” Joey said, giving her an affectionate pat on the nozzle. “I doubt you meant to do any harm.”

In this moment, Joey was purely happy. There was no murder, no questions, just him and his machine.

“I really thought they were lying.” The moment shattered, gone as quickly as it begun. Taken away by hate, disdain. Above all, this sudden voice was familiar, and the only voice he’d wanted to hear in this place.

“Henr-” Joey started, but as soon as he got a look at the speaker, he knew it wasn’t Henry. Not only was this thing far too tall, it was another ink creature. But it was...different. The other ink creatures were generic and mostly featureless, or Little Beau Peep, a cartoon, while this creature was seemingly a combination of both. As if there’d been a honest attempt to make a cartoon, but it’d been a near failure, and the creature had been paying for it since. 

It wasn’t hard to tell what had been attempted here. Almost hidden beneath its inky, dripping hair, were small horns, pressed down against its head like cat's ears. It had a humanoid enough appearance, like the more generic ink creatures, but it had a remarkable set of teeth, yellowed and painfully crooked, bared, like this creature was a cornered animal. A bowtie hung loose around its neck, complemented by the torn remnants of a suit. 

This creature was meant to personify Bendy the Dancing Demon himself, but somewhere along the way, they’d made a broken looking creature instead. Joey felt pity even though the creature was advancing on him, his stance very clearly unfriendly. 

“Do you know what you’ve just done!?” The creature asked, snarling. 

Joey pressed his back up on the Ink Machine. He didn’t need to be a smart man to know this creature actually meant him harm. 

“Well, do you?!”

“No...no one’s told me anything of what’s going on. Would you be so kind as to tell me?” Joey asked, trying to sound polite. It was very obvious now, especially when they found his neck, that this creature had claws. Sharp ones. Their very tips drew pricks of blood.

The creature snarled once more, spitting out ink that had dripped into its mouth from its very being, and the ink splattered on Joey’s cheek. The ink creature leaned uncomfortably close to Joey’s face, and Joey thought for a second the creature was going to lick the ink off.

Joey pushed that thought far, far away.

“Astor is going to realize he has run of the place again, and then he’s going to…” The ink creature took the tips of his claws off Joey’s neck, but started putting pressure on it, expressing his frustration by choking Joey, however briefly. “Dammit Joey, why did you create this stupid machine?!” The ink creature demanded, growling inhumanly.

The creature released Joey’s neck from its grasp, and Joey coughed. With his first breath, he asked the pressing question.

“You...you know who I am?”

The ink creature pulled away from Joey completely, taking several steps back.

“Of course! Don’t you know who I am?”

“No. Am I supposed to?”

“But you said...oh. You don’t know what all this is! I get it.” The ink creature laughed. “I think I’d rather keep it that way.” Suddenly, the ink creature lunged at Joey, smashing Joey’s entire self against the Ink Machine. “I’m Bendy. I'm the Ink Demon. Or the The Demon for short. But most importantly, Joey,” The Demon grabbed Joey, who was still dazed from the previous impact, and tossed him into the wall. “I’m your worst nightmare.”

Balancing himself, Joey was stone faced for a moment, but then he gave the Demon his best grin, and he laughed for good measure.  

“I’ve already lived my worst nightmare, and it was worse than this.”

Casper’s last words to Joey were lost on him, as he’d been half asleep and drunk when they’d been saying their goodnights, but he liked to think they were wise, loving words. Joey didn’t want to think they were mundane, something like ‘see you in the morning’, because Casper had promised to never lie to him.

“Really? What could be worse than…” The Demon gestured around him. “This?”

Joey hung his head, but held his smile even as it hurt.

“Have you ever been in love?”

The Demon’s breath caught as he hesitated to speak, and Joey knew he could make a point.

“Yes, I have been in love." The Demon admitted. "But love is meaningless.”

Joey disagreed. Love was everything.

“It isn’t when you grow up with him as your only friend. When he tracks you down even though you were the one who abandoned him. He introduces you to amazing things, and holds you while you cry because your best friend has turned against you. He stays with you for almost two decades.” Joey couldn’t keep up his smile. “You love him even after he’s gone.”

Joey had managed to silence the Demon with words alone, if temporarily. When Joey looked up, the Demon’s fists were clenched.

“I’m going to kill you painfully and slowly. I hope you realize that.”

It was kind of the Demon to announce his intentions, because while it was a classic mistake, it gave Joey enough time to dodge the Demon’s attack, and take off. Away from his Ink Machine, away from the Ink Demon. He only paused to grab his bag, because it was far too important to leave behind. Joey was surprised he wasn’t killed for it.

The Demon was giving chase. But even with his brief pause, Joey had a head start. Joey wasn’t sure where he’d go - he certainly wasn’t going to leave without at least trying to revive Little Beau Peep - but where could he go that the Demon couldn’t get him?

Joey didn’t know, so for now he’d just keep running.


	4. Nothingness

Joey ended up in his office. _Former_ office, he reminded himself. He’d be cornered if he was found, but Joey was sure he could hide here until he thought of a better plan. Not to mention he was curious. 

The room was different from how Joey had left it twenty years ago. What was once filled with life had only a few remaining sparks. Picture frames, placed flat on the desk, were the only things Joey could see that remained of a happier time.  
  
But there was more to it, more in this sorrow. Another message on the wall.

**Insignificance Is A Storyteller Without Equal  
**

“Cryptic. I still have no idea what these all could mean.”

Placing his bag on the floor, Joey went to inspect more of the room, hoping there was more than just darkness surrounding him.

First he looked at the picture frames. Memories captured from time itself. Happier times. A shot of Henry and Sammy, hand in hand, and Joey raised an eyebrow, seeing Sammy smile. Joey could only remember close mouthed smiles from Sammy Lawrence. Never a full out grin. Joey could now guess why. The photo was close enough to their faces and had just the right lighting for Joey to make out the gaps in Sammy’s smile, to the side. Joey was sure that he could even see several broken teeth beside the missing spaces. He would say someone had preemptively given Sammy the punch to the face some often claimed he needed.

That certainly put Sammy into a new perspective. No wonder, if it happened that he was embarrassed by his broken smile. If Henry got Sammy to smile like that, he might as well have accomplished the impossible.

The others framed photos of Henry’s life after Joey just the same. In all of them, Henry was joyful and animated. This was the bearer of the cruel knowledge that Henry had been better off without him.

There was one more frame to lift, and it did a lot to lift Joey’s spirits once more, before his own self dashed them once more in turn. Among all these snapshots of happier times, Henry had kept this bitter reminder of the past.

It was of Joey and Henry, thirty years ago. They were only eighteen and seventeen at the time, thinking they had everything in the world figured out. Joey had Henry in a hug, and Henry was leaning into him. They were standing in front of their new animation studio, which they’d bought straight up with their ill gotten money.

At eighteen, Joey really thought he had everything figured out. That he could run a business that _young_ with no degree, no proper schooling, and eventually through such a terrible economic time. He had done it! Yet, it had been for nothing in the end, and Joey had a lot of time to realized that he would have failed if Henry and the others hadn't picked up his slack.

But he really thought he was getting better in the last years. He was trying to come to compromises with Grant about money, and he was checking on everyone when he could to make sure they were happy with their work, and if they were taking breaks when they needed to. Joey thought he was actually becoming _something_ to all of them.

Glancing away from the photo, Joey spotted a tape, which seemed to have been covered by the frame beforehand. It was unmarked.

In the distance, but too close for comfort, there was a scream, and yelling. Joey grabbed the tape, and made frantic but quiet steps towards the closet, picking up his bag on the way.

Joey closed the closet door behind him, sitting down on the floor, cramping his limbs. Joey got his bag onto his lap, and the pulled out the tape recorder, switching out the tape inside for this new one. Since these recordings were turning out to be helpful, Joey didn’t hesitate to listen to this tape. He just hoped that the monster wasn’t too close as to hear it.

 _“It’s getting worse.”_ Came a voice, forlorn and yet accepting. Joey hunched closer to the recording, eyes wide. This was _Henry._ Not the ink creature with a similar voice. Softer, quieter, compared to the boisterous Ink Demon. _“Both Sammy and Wally have blacked out this week. Wally just screamed and cried a lot and hid in my office, but Sammy...I can’t lose Sammy. Not now. This would destroy him. I can’t hide Johnny’s death, but I have to hide the truth.”_

Joey hit pause.

Blackouts?

Henry described them as if the two were still conscious during. What would cause such a thing? Joey felt sick. Wally had been a strong kid, always smiling and encouraging others to do so as well. Joey had thought of him like a son, so his heart broke the most at the thought of Wally suffering.

What made Joey just as sick was that despite all of Sammy Lawrence's shortcomings, he’d cared about his younger brother deeply. Henry seemed to imply Sammy, during one of these blackouts, was behind the carnage befallen Johnny Lawrence.

Having older sisters, Joey could put himself in Johnny’s place. Chances are, Johnny hadn’t done as much as he could to fight back, held back by everything.

But Joey didn’t want to think that his sisters would ever harm him, so these blackouts could be nothing but terrible. Were they a driving cause of the murders? Was he even right in his conclusions? What he did know was that if Sammy learned the truth, it would have broken him.

Joey pressed play once more.

 _“I can’t help but wonder how Joey would have handled this. I assume he would have encouraged it.”_ Joey jammed his finger down on the pause button.

“I would _never!_ Henry, did you really have that little faith in me?” It hurt. Hurt that his former best friend thought he was terrible. That he would allow harm to come to those he cared about. It hurt so much.

Joey might have pulled the tape out and smashed it there and then, but it might contain more important information, so he had to keep listening, even if it ripped him apart from the heart out.

_“After all, he made that machine.”_

“It’s because I wanted to be happy. Even more, I wanted…” Joey was thrown back in his ideal world. Everyone was happy, undamaged _, alive._ Joey was back home, bringing food to the table, where Henry had just finished handing out silverware. Wally and the toons, who called him _dad_ and variants of, thanked him, digging in. Casper called to him from the kitchen...

The door to the office opened, and broke into his idealism, reminding him that he was being hunted. Alone in a place he might of stayed away of, had he known the consequences.

There were harsh steps, and a light humming, clearly inspecting the room. The clunking stopped, and Joey clutched the still playing tape recorder close to himself. Joey remembered too late that he wasn’t the only one who could hear it. From there, the closet door swung open, and for a brief second Joey caught eyes with _someone,_ green staring at _pie-cut,_ and then there was nothingness.


	5. Carnage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment we’ve all been waiting for! Well, what I’ve been waiting for, at least. This adapts some parts of In Love With Your Carnage, if anything seems familiar.

Joey came to, and he knew he wasn’t in the office anymore. When his vision came into focus, he could see he was in a well lit room. What corners weren't illuminated by the old light were filled with candles. The room was warm, especially in comparison the rest of the studio.

What had happened? There was the recording, and than he was found by... _pie-cut_. That was all Joey had registered of _whoever_ ’s appearance before the lights went in his mind. Was it Little Beau Peep? His eyes would surely be pie-cut if they weren’t x-ed out. Had the boy been brought back by the Ink Machine and been sent to find him?

For this small moment, Joey felt happy once more. But then he recalled the footsteps. The thunking. Little Beau Peep was barefoot, and walked with all the delicacy of a cat. That sound have to have been boots, heavy. Certainly not barefoot.

But it had to be another cartoon.  
  
Joey looked around the room, trying to find or any sign of the one who had brought him here. He was alone, but ever so, he saw the signs of another. There was a broom leaning against the wall, and his bag, which someone had been kind enough to bring along, was lying in a far corner. Joey intended to get up and grab it, make sure everything was still there.

That was when he became more aware of the rope around him, holding him to a chair. Joey glared at the binds, and than complained, hoping _whoever_ was watching him, or at least listening.

“So...I’m not into bondage. I know Henry was, but I’m not Henry. All this is doing is making me uncomfortable.” That, of course, was some of the point of tying someone up, but Joey wasn’t going to let that stop him. “Unless...the actual Henry is behind this.”

The door off to the room opened up, and clearly he’d been listened to. But it wasn't Henry. _Whoever_ stepped into his view, dressed in a standard janitor’s garb. The clothing was stained and torn, and almost...exaggerated was the word Joey was looking for. The overalls were of a comical size on _whoever’s_ body, and the gloves were just the same. Oversized and exaggerated.

 _Whoever_ certainly didn’t seem like he should be wearing them. _Whoever_ was a small thing, with a huge grin, and proportions of a human, realistic if sticky hair falling out of his hat. He was made of ink, with pie-cut eyes. This was almost just like the Demon was. Stuck in-between, but his mostly human appearance really caught Joey’s attention.

Most odd, his white face was heavily covered in what could be mimicking freckles. Joey couldn’t recall a cartoon by the studio ever having that many freckles. Something about _Whoever's_ appearance didn’t sit right with him at all.

But all the same, this was another living ink creature, and he was quite fascinated.

“Well, aren’t you gonna say anything?” _Whoever_ asked, grin widening, “Might as well say your word and smile a little before the Demon comes to claim you.”

"I don’t think it’s wise to put the Demon and I in the same room. We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, you see. Is he your boss?”

 _Whoever’s_ reaction was immediate and harsh, and his smile dropped.

 _“No!”_ He snapped back, before going rigid. The tight, false smile make its way back onto his face.. “I mean, yes! Are you and him old friends? Would be nice to see some genuine smiles from him!”

“Oh, you like smiles?”  
  
“Smiling makes everything better! If you're not smiling, you should just get outta here!” _Whoever_ ’s smile twitched. “You're not smiling.” The tone was threatening, coming from lips turned into such a painful, regretful smile.

“Where are my manners!” Joey let out a hearty laugh. Despite _Whoever_ ’s connection to the Ink Demon, this was the most pleasant conversation Joey had so far. He just had to hope he could get away before the Demon showed up, or _Whoever_ turned the tables and killed him.

In the meantime, Joey smiled as requested, but it wasn’t faked.This was truly beautiful. “I’m Joey Drew. I’d shake your hand, but I’m a little tied up at the moment.” He shifted around in the ropes for emphasis.

“Joey...Joey Drew? It's you! It’s you? How? You were gone! No no, this is a trick. Beau came back again and sent you here to make me not smile.” But the fake smile had already disappeared, replaced with lip wobble, and ink pooling in the corners of his eyes. “No no no no!”  
  
“Why is my presence a problem for you?” Joey’s heart was sinking by the second, feeling sympathy for this ink creature. He did not receive a direct reply to his question. _Whoever_ had gotten trapped in his own mind.

“Henry said that Joey was bad! Can't be trusted! No no no!” _Whoever_ started pacing back and forth, sobbing.

While this would be the prime time to find a way to get loose, Joey couldn’t leave. _Whoever_ could be a threat, but Joey couldn’t leave him like this.

This, and _Whoever’s_ voice was familiar. Too familiar. In the back of his mind, Joey recognized the sobbing.

“May I ask your name, son?”  
  
“It’s Wally! I’m Wally! Don't call me Boris. No. Please no!” _Whoever_ , Wally, clutched at his stomach and whimpered. “I’m sorry Henry. Where’s Sammy? Sammy? Please help me please help me help me help me. Sammy help _help._ ”

 _“Wally?_ ”

It couldn’t be! Not Wally. It shouldn’t have even been possible. His machine, at most, would take blood sacrifices. She wouldn’t eat up a human and spit them out like _this._ This had to be a trick. Reasonably, this ink creature could have learnt those names anywhere. But the voice and his nagging appearance, much unlike Boris, was now frighteningly familiar. 

“Yes?” Wally responded, too sweetly for how tears still dripped off his face. “Joey, why do you look so sad? You’re supposed to be smiling.”

“How can I smile when you’re sad, and because you might actually be Wally Franks! It’s almost too ridiculous, but you resemble him far too much for me not to wonder.”

 _“I am Wally Franks!”_ Wally screamed, and then his smile returned. Yet, his words were sinister. “I should cut you up like I did Beau…oh how he screamed! Never did apologize for yelling at me all those times.”

“That was you who hurt Beau?”

“He deserved it. But don’t worry. He’ll be back. He always comes back. I hate that.”

“I would like to meet him. Do you know where he’d be?”

“I’m not telling you. Plus, he usually locks the doors. You can’t get to him without keys. Only I have them!” Wally momentarily pulled a set of keys out of his front pocket, and in an instant his mood shifted again. Wally sniffled and shook even as he still smiled. “I’m sorry for losing my keys all those times, Joey. It’s a honest mistake, really.”

“Everyone makes mistakes! It’s alright." Either this really was Wally, however terrible the idea was, or a well made inky clone, Joey now firmly knew he need him on his side. This studio was dangerous. He needed a friend here, and he needed to help this man. Joey also needed those keys. "Now, could just untie me? I want to help you. Please, Wally.”

“No. I can’t! The Demon wants you! I think… He wants to kill you. That's it. That's what he wants.” Even then, Wally seemed unsure, and while it was a little hard to say for sure, Joey might have gotten through to him, if for only a moment.  
  
“Do you know what I did to cross him?”  
  
“You came back.” That, Wally seemed sure of, if nothing else.  
  
“I came back to see an old friend. Is that a crime?”  
  
“Yes! It’s a huge crime. Unforgivable. I don't think the Demon likes you.”  
  
“But you previously suggested that my presence would make him smile. What changed?”  
  
“Nothing!” Wally laughed, madness returning, that fake grin becoming even more sinister. “The Demon isn’t here to hurt me, Joey. He’s not like Astor. That angel…he’s cruel, but…Joey, have you ever seen a man as beautiful as an angel?”

Casper. Henry, maybe. But Joey wasn't appreciating the sudden shift of topics. Clearly, Wally knew something, but his mind was too shattered to make heads or tails of it. Joey could only hope that Wally was salvageable.

This was also the second time Joey had heard about Astor. There was an Astor Angel around here. That made Little Beau Peep, Bendy, Astor Angel, and seemly Boris. Characters he’d adored or despised, brought to life, suffering here. Not to mention the ink creatures created without an image.

Since Wally most likely wasn't going to untie him, Joey started the effort of rubbing his bonds against back of the chair, a chore he’d wanted to avoid since he wasn’t experienced and couldn’t be sure he could even break them, as Wally blubbered on.  
  
“Astor was nice to me once. One part of him. I remember! He was so nice! He let me hide in the toy department and wouldn't tell Henry I was ever there.” Wally’s smile fell again. For someone who thought smiling was the solution, he didn't know how to keep up that facade. “The worst part of still living is knowing I used to have something better, even though it wasn't the most glamorous life.”  
  
Seemingly, a moment of true lucidity. It was gone in an instant, replaced with the smile.

“Do you hear it?”  
  
“Here what, exactly?” Surprisingly, thanks to the rope being thinner than Joey thought, Joey almost had the bonds loosened and frayed enough to break them.  
  
“The Demon. He knows you’re here. With me.”  
  
“I wish I planned to stay and have that lovely chat." Joey broke through the bonds and stood to full height, towering over Wally. “But I have to go. I need to find Henry, or Beau if he really did come back on his own, or any sort of answer to all this."  
  
Wally backed away, eyes widened in fear, and Joey wondered how Wally had ever taken him out in the first place. That... _nothingness._ What was it?

“I can't just let you leave!” After a brief look around of the area he stood in, Wally grabbed the broom and charged at Joey.  
  
Joey didn't even do much to stop him. He simply put his foot out, and Wally tripped over it, falling face first on the floor.

Someone, most likely the Demon, was howling in the distance, and Wally picked himself off the ground at the call. Joey couldn’t allow this to go further. So, Joey grabbed Wally, and slung him over his shoulder.

Wally did what Joey expected, and went limp, trying to slide down, but what Joey didn’t expect was for Wally to then latch onto him, throwing his arms around Joey’s neck, and his legs around Joey’s waist. Joey put his arms around Wally in turn. If Wally was going to be compliant, things might turn out okay. 

“Don’t let him get me. _Please_ , Joey.”

“I won’t.”

With Wally such a weight, Joey almost considered leaving his bag there. But he was rather attached to his personal belongings. It was a bit of struggle carrying them both, but Joey made it to the door, pushing it fully open with his foot.

From the hallway, he could tell he was in the Music Department. There was some updating done to it, but Joey assumed he could make his way through.

“Where can we hide? You might know this place better than me.”

Wally looked up at Joey with such sad eyes.

“Sammy’s office. That has a good lock on it, the door is pretty thick, and Sammy boarded up the window himself. We’d be safe there.”

Joey nodded.

“Good.”  
  
As fast as he could run with all the weight he was carrying, Joey dashed for where he recalled Sammy’s office was. It was thankfully not too far off.  
  
The door was locked.

“Oh…” Wally said under his breath, but did not elaborate. Wally unhooked an arm from Joey’s neck, and pulled out the keys, and the settled himself onto the ground. The door opened with a simple turn of the key, and the two men stepped in.

Joey was watching Wally for any sudden shifts like he’d been going through before that he almost missed the quiet swear from in the room. There was someone else here, and Wally had clearly known it.  
  
Friend or foe?

“You can come out. I won’t hurt you.” Joey called. He couldn’t be sure Wally wouldn’t try and harm though.

“Are...are you sure?” Came a timid voice from under the desk.  
  
“Yes, very much.”

“You sound familiar. In a bad way.” The voice seemed completely untrusting, but all the same, coming out from under the desk, claws outstretched and ears pressed to his head, his gaze not on Joey but Wally, was Little Beau Peep, whole and healthy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joey has made the motions to acquire two friends! May they bring each other luck in these troubled times. Joey is confused, Wally’s mind is shattered and his moods and opinions can change in an instant, and there’s something up with Beau. They’ll make quite the team.  
> And yeah, Joey likes cornering himself. Good thing he remembers to lock the door this time, right? Right?
> 
> Oh, and unlike in Carnage, Wally is about 37 here, although he looks younger than that. In the past I tended to assign different ages to characters story to story depending on my needs, but I’m trying to keep characters the same age from this point on. So, Wally was 17 when Joey left, and now it's twenty years later.


	6. Horror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the release of BATIM Chapter 4, I’m only going to change one big thing of the already posted stuff. Sort of. The featureless creatures are Lost Ones. Or, they’re a combination of Searchers and Lost Ones. You know, since they walk on two legs and can speak, but are also a little less humanoid? Either way, I thought the Lost Ones seemed familiar. For simplicity, I’ll still call them Searchers since I came up with an explanation for why the Ink Demon could call them that.
> 
> I may make small changes as they come to mind though, like I have in the past. I think the biggest change I made that not everyone may be aware is that instead of Murray Hill, I changed Joey’s lost life partner into an OC awhile back. For reasons I won’t be going into just yet.

_“Fuck you. _You brought a friend this time? Haven’t I suffered enough?” Little Beau Peep lunged for Wally, and the inky man stepped out of the way just in time to avoid the fate of the Bendy plush Beau got his claws and teeth on instead. The plush was torn to shreds in an instant. “Damn it all to hell.” Beau hissed, tossing the remains in Wally’s direction.__

__Beau made a dash for the door, but Joey was quick to grab Beau by his suspenders, and maneuvered so he had the kid dangling off the floor. It might not be the best idea to keep Wally and Beau in the same room, but this might’ve been Joey’s only chance to secure Beau’s trust._ _

__Wally grinned, his demeanor changed by the violence, and he ducked behind Joey and quickly locked the door. It would be for the best, but Wally’s intent was clearly much different than for safety._ _

__Joey knew what was coming, and grabbed Wally by his overall straps, and held him up just the same as Beau. Joey’s arms were strained, holding them up and apart, but it was for the best. Wally was snarling, trying to reach the cross boy, who was growling and baring his teeth._ _

__It wasn’t hard to notice that Little Beau Peep’s had broken teeth much like Sammy Lawrence showed off in the photo. Beau was clearly relying more on one ear to hear, as it was the one moving most, and Sammy Lawrence had been hard of hearing in one ear._ _

__Seeing that being in the real world cast away some of the limitations of animation was certainly a sight to see, and Joey was loving every second of it._ _

__Although it was odd that Beau sounded more like Sammy himself, instead of the altered tone and pitch Sammy had used when he’d done his voice acting for the kid. Most likely, it was all just a case of Beau being not a perfect toon, but only close enough._ _

__“No.” Joey dropped the both of them then. Thankfully, they didn’t fight each other once they touched ground. Wally stumbled a little, but kept both his legs straight. Beau stumbled upon impact and fell back a little. Joey moved to help him, but Beau held up a certain finger the entire time he got himself up._ _

__“Sorry Joey, I just want to tear him limb from limb. Didja see what I did to him upstairs?” Despite being pitch black, Wally’s eyes managed to shine. Wally was looking for validation for violence._ _

__“It was certainly...unexpected. I’d never seen anything like it.”_ _

__It had been horrifying, but now was not the time to broach that subject._ _

__“Yeah, and he broke my banjo.”_ _

__“Why didja even love that stupid thing?!” Wally shot back. “It wasn’t even in tune.”_ _

__“It was mine.” Beau strained, his tone showing how idiotic he thought Wally was._ _

__“Oh, what’s the point in arguing? You’ll be dead again soon.” Wally replied, in an insulted, dismissive voice._ _

__As much as the crazed man he’d been only minutes before was not like the Wally Franks that Joey had known all those years ago, this wasn’t him either._ _

__Joey still remembered when Henry had first brought Wally home. It was but a year after they’d started the whole studio business. Henry was supposed to go buy his girlfriend that ring he always kept saving up for and then spending the money on other things. Instead he came back with a crying child, and no ring. It wasn’t the first time Henry had brought a kid off the streets or raided an orphanage, but Wally had been the first Joey really felt fatherly feelings for, over at most fond tolerance._ _

__For years, Wally had been a permanent part of Joey’s family, even after Henry moved out to live with his wife, and Henry’s collection of in-house orphans and so called rejects had either found their own places or followed Henry after that. A thing that made Wally different from the rest was while he worshiped the ground Henry walked on, he wasn’t dead set on being one of Henry’s animators, like the rest were. One day, Wally declared himself the new janitor and that was that._ _

__Eventually, Wally had started spending more and more nights at Shawn Flynn’s apartment, or with the Lawrences. The last time Joey had seen Wally was when Joey was packing to leave. Joey gave him the option to come with, and Wally had turned it down._ _

__This inky man in front of him was once the child who meekly asked for hugs, and asked if he was even allowed to smile. A smile from Wally now was a curse, where it’d once been a blessing._ _

__“I’m so sorry.” Joey caught Wally in a hug, and the other man was so, so cold. When Joey had being carrying him, it had been one of the last things on his mind. Now, it reached his very soul._ _

__Wally didn’t hug back._ _


End file.
